Words Without Weight
by Andsowego
Summary: Sara, the miniature killer, and other such things. Possible ending for Living Doll? Light plot... GSR will prevail.
1. Chapter I

**Words Without Weight**

**Disclaimer**: Oh, how I wish I owned CSI… perhaps then I could afford to pay off my gigantic student loan and at least buy the good cheese every now and then (or afford to send someone out to do the good-cheese-shopping for me!)

**Spoilers**: Living Doll

**Summary**: Sara, the miniature killer, and other such things. I think I may have actually come up with a nice tidy outcome here for Living Doll.

**A/N**:

This starts a bit dark, but have no fear. More chapters to come, and the skies will clear.

Oh, and since I don't particularly like Warrick, he's not in this one. Andsowego

**Words Without Weight**

**Chapter I**

The car was getting heavier by the minute as the rain-soaked Nevada desert slowly turned to mush beneath her. She was cold, but not so cold as to trigger hypothermia… this _was_ early summer in Vegas after all. She was wet, but not so wet that a middle-of-the-desert-drowning was on the menu… plus, she vaguely remembered something about one of those already occurring recently, and well, you know what they say about odds. She was scared, but not so scared that her pulse would run away with itself and leave her mourning the loss. She was bleeding, but it was only a little… no, correction… a lot. Well, there you have it.

Death by bleed-out.

She'd spent time pondering her own death before, after a close friend nearly bit it due to a nasty work-related incident, but she never pictured it like this. What does one ponder in the final moments? What _should_ one be pondering? Aren't there some kind of standard requirements? Life accomplishments… or lack thereof? Love… or lack thereof? Family… or lack thereof? Somehow, she figured that feeling hopelessly inadequate wasn't exactly in the things-to-ponder-when-you're-dying protocol either, but it came so naturally to her. She'd spent her whole life trying to accomplish something that mattered, and now that her life was ending, none of it seemed necessary. Maybe she should have spent more time being honest with people. Somehow, she knew that it quite possibly would have worked a whole lot better.

Her last breath didn't come with a momentous realization.

In. Out. Done.

Her last thought was of the dog. He'd be crushed.

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**Chapter II to come soon… GSR lovers... you won't regret sticking with this story! **


	2. Chapter II

**Words Without Weight**

**A.K.A. "WWW" **

**Chapter II**

Under the microscope, the little Sara miniature was being examined by Greg's steady hands.

"Objectivity will save her Gil. You won't."

Ecklie's words had been cruel and cold, but reluctantly, everyone knew he might be right. Grissom had been pulled from the case the second Ecklie caught wind of his little 'lovers confession' in front of the team. Surprisingly, Grissom had left the lab in a shot without a word, leaving the final fate of the mini-Sara with Greg.

The miniature CSI vest had been slipped off first without much effort. Then slowly, carefully, every tiny piece of clothing had been peeled back and inspected, layer by layer, until nothing was left but the waxy naked body of the mini-Sara herself. The motor had to be disconnected. She lay still. Greg prayed that this wouldn't be a sign of things to come. He _had_ to disconnect her. He didn't have a choice if he was going to properly perform the mini-autopsy without distraction. There was no way he could concentrate with the little Sara-hand repeatedly beckoning to him from under the lens and the whirring of the motor buzzing beneath his fingers. Still, he felt guilty, as if he was about to single-handedly erase all hope of finding her alive. It was irrational, he knew, but he just couldn't shake the thought that by sending her to her mini-doom, he was somehow sending the real Sara to her fate as well.

He could do this. He _had_ to do this. Sara needed him. It was now or never.

Greg gingerly picked up the mini-Sara with the stainless steel tweezers, turning her over and back again, hoping for some small shred of useful evidence to reveal itself. Her hair was just the right shade of brown and her eyes had been dabbed with the perfect shade of matching dye. Her toes were painted pink. Wow. Natalie knew that Sara painted her toes. Creepy, yet somehow expected he surmised. She seemed to know details of Sara and Grissom's relationship that even he had missed, so why wouldn't she be accurate about the toes too? Upon finishing his visual inspection of the mini-Sara, he reluctantly traded the tweezers for a scalpel. Just as he was about to commence dissection, something clicked.

Greg smiled.

"Objectivity my ass!"

The scalpel was unceremoniously discarded on the table, and the mini-Sara appropriately left for dead under the microscope. Dissection was no longer necessary, and Greg needed to notify Brass as fast as possible.

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**Thanks for reading! No reviews means no more chapters! I'm holding the plot hostage! (laughs maniacally)**


	3. Chapter III

"**WWW" **

**Chapter III**

Grissom had only been home for six minutes, but was ready to head back to the lab. Ecklie wasn't right this time. Maybe objectivity would save her, but what if it wouldn't? What if the only way to save her was to rely on instinct? Grissom was a master of instinct, and there was no way he could use it to his advantage while sitting at home with the dog.

As he picked up his car keys and headed for the door, the shrill ringing of his cell phone startled him.

"Grissom."

"Gil, it's Jim."

There was no big announcement, there were no truly significant details. Just Brass on the phone who, for the first time in his life, was nearly speechless. He listened while Brass stumbled through an explanation of the evidence, and how Greg's findings had broken the investigation. The lack of further details was enough to tip him off to the nature of the call, although he was sure that Brass had no intention of revealing such information over the phone. It was human nature he guessed. The inability to function within acceptable norms when faced with an unacceptable situation. Grissom knew she'd been found, and now he'd have to suffer the consequences. He'd spent the last two years trying to make up for the hurtful words, the opportunities unrealized, and the precious time lost. Now, standing in their townhouse with a blank look on his face and a cell phone in his hand, he knew that his life had never fully begun. Even if she couldn't listen to him now, he knew that he'd still have to tell her in his own way.

"Gil, are you still there?" came Brass' steady voice.

"Yeah" he managed.

"I'm coming to pick you up, okay? There are things… things you'll have to take care of."

"Yeah."

He closed his cell phone and stared at the wall. Sara was right. It really did need painting.

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**Short, I know, but I swear this story only gets better… thanks for the reviews!**

**Andsowego **


	4. Chapter IV

**"WWW"**

**Chapter IV**

At the hospital, Sara sat. The chair was a relatively comfortable one, considering where she'd been for the last few hours. She didn't remember much about the journey to the hospital. One moment the darkness was bearing down, and the next moment, she was perched on the edge of a badly upholstered emergency room chair. It _was_ clear to her, however, that she was no longer a priority for the hospital staff. 'The dying get priority, not the dead' she thought. It wasn't morbid was it? No, not morbid, just realistic.

She sat some more as a familiar looking dark-haired woman on a stretcher was rolled into the room. Nope, not a priority. Still she sat, as the woman's face was covered with a sheet, and machines were unhooked, and signatures were given. Poor thing. She looked like she'd been through a serious trauma. Sara's situation didn't seem so bad now. At least she was clean. That woman looked like she'd been out in the desert alone, having fallen victim to that torrential rainstorm that had pushed through over the last few hours.

Sara wondered about who would come for her. The woman, that is. It seemed strange… in the moments after death, there's an unexpected pause. A great, grand pause, when you really are alone. The doctors are tending to the dying, and the dead can only wait for someone to come and claim them. Who would come for this woman? Perhaps a friend? Perhaps a family member? Perhaps the great love of this woman's life had yet to be informed of her passing, and the wrong person would come for her. Sara guessed she'd never know. After all, there was nothing she could do in her current state but sit and wait.

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**Next chapter up soon….**

**Thanks again for the reviews! Andsowego**


	5. Chapter V

**WWW**

**Chapter V**

"Are you okay with this?" Brass asked as they pulled up to the hospital in his car.

"Yeah" came the now standard answer.

"I'll park the car, and I'll be in shortly after you. Alright?"

"Uh-huh."

The sliding front doors of the hospital were green. An arrogant green that seemed to mock him as he walked through them. Green wasn't a good colour for hospital doors. They should have been purple, or blue, or something conducive to comfort. Not green. She would have hated them.

He approached the emergency room desk, and identified himself to the clerk. "Gilbert Grissom, here to see Sara Sidle." The words were rehearsed, straightforward. It was all he could manage. The clerk handed him some papers and a pen. A signature here, check a box there. He didn't even know what he was signing. Somehow, he figured that it wouldn't matter anyway now that the whole ordeal was over. Who would care if the papers weren't signed properly?

Certainly not Sara.

"Room 133" stated the clerk. "You can see her there."

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**More to come… stay tuned for the next chapter! Andsowego**


	6. Chapter VI

"**WWW"**

**Chapter VI**

Brass pulled into the first parking spot he could find in the back lot of the hospital. Considering that they hadn't arrived in a police cruiser, he didn't feel right using the reserved spaces out front. After shutting off the ignition, he let out a long, slow breath that he didn't even realize he was holding. There was really no need for him to hurry at this point. He figured that Gil would have more than enough to deal with, without his friend hovering over his shoulder, listening to his every carefully chosen word. No, this was something Gil Grissom was going to have to face alone, however difficult it was going to be. She deserved his full, undivided attention, and at a time like this, he had better not give her any less.

Brass had known about their relationship for nearly a year now. It hadn't come with any big 'ah-ha!' moment, and it certainly wasn't something Gil tried to actively hide from him. It probably had something to do with the fact that he wasn't directly in Gil's chain-of-command, so to speak, but all it took was a simple 'Hey, are you and Sara seeing each other?' followed by a simple 'Yes, we are' which came attached to the tiniest hint of a smile on Gil's part.

There was a certain amount of safety in confiding in a friend you didn't directly work with. He and Gil were friends, and that's what friends do… talk about their women. No, he hadn't heard all the sordid details of their relationship… Gil was still a gentleman… but he knew enough to understand what this unfortunate incident was going to do to Gil. A man, usually so calm, collected, methodical… he had completely lost it in the car on the way to the hospital. Started rambling incoherently about how she didn't know, and how he'd never managed to tell her properly, and how it wouldn't matter if he told her now, because she wouldn't be capable of hearing it, and how the words would never carry the same weight as they once could have.

Brass knew the guy was torturing himself over the whole situation. It's not like anyone could have predicted that this would happen, and it's not like anyone could have gotten to her any faster. As soon as Greg's call had come in, they all did the best they could under such strained circumstances, and regardless of the outcome, they had still found her. One of the hardest things to cope with in law-enforcement is being able to recognize when a situation is completely beyond your control, and then submit to it. Sometimes horrible things just happen for no logical reason, and the best way to deal is to let the cards play out.

The final search had been a relatively short one. Catherine and Nick had been assigned to process the primary scene after it had been cleared, and Greg had dutifully remained at the lab, ready to process the evidence as it rolled in. Brass couldn't help but admire the kid. It was his keen sense of observation, combined with that endearing sense of quirkiness that only Greg could pull off, which led them all to the ultimate truth of what had happened.

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**Thanks for reading – how about leaving a review? Andsowego**


	7. Chapter VII

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who has reviewed this story! Your words are very encouraging, and really appreciated. Have no fear…. GSR will prevail! Andsowego**

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"**WWW"**

**Chapter VII**

Catherine and Nick knew that they would be processing the scene well into the morning; long after Greg's call had come through, long after the news had spread, long after the rain had stopped, long after she'd been pulled from the car, and long after the coroner had pronounced. Yes, they would still be processing the scene long after morning had passed and another night fell, but they wouldn't have it any other way.

"Nick?"

"Yeah?"

"You should come and see this," Catherine waved him over to the car. He had been processing the perimeter of the scene, admittedly reluctant to get closer to the vehicle. His fear had two agendas, each actively threatening to consume him without warning: One, he really didn't want to revisit his own nightmare of the burial and was terrified he'd lose it right there at the crime scene, and two, Catherine was being awfully protective of her 'area' and the last thing he needed to do was to step on her perfectly polished toes and get into it with her when Sara deserved so much better.

"Nick!" she called a second time. "You've got to come over here and check this out. It's pretty unusual, considering how hard it rained last night."

Cautiously, Nick crossed over to her side of the scene, and stepped in close.

"What is it Catherine?" he asked quietly.

"She left something behind in the car."

"Who?"

"Natalie."

"Oh."

"Yeah, it looks like a long dirty-blond hair. Not dark enough to be the victim's. I think Natalie must've got it caught when she was doing the deed. It looks like it's complete with a skin tag, perfect for identification. We're totally gonna nail that bitch with the science."

Nick was mortified. How could Catherine be so matter-of-fact about the whole thing? 'Victim?' 'Doing the deed?' Someone innocent and beautiful had died out here for pete's sake, and all Catherine could do was pull out her usual 'sorry, no emotion here, gotta process the scene' crap.

Nick closed his eyes to the sunlight and steadied himself against the car's frame as Catherine proceeded to bag and tag the hair evidence. Perhaps she was the one who had got things right.

No emotional attachment equals no personal pain.

No emotional attachment equals no crazy psychological consequences.

Maybe this really didn't have to be such a big deal at the end of the day. He could handle it. He'd certainly handled worse. There was no way he was going to let Sara down on this one, and if it meant that he had to take a page from Catherine's 'tell-it-like-it-is' book, then that's what he was going to do. Nick took in a slow, purposeful breath and headed back to his side of the crime scene, ready to continue processing.

**Chapter VIII coming soon...**

**Thanks for sticking with me... how about leaving a review? Andsowego**


	8. Chapter VIII

**A/N: This chapter gave me a really hard time! I take full responsibility for all mistakes surrounding "tense". This chapter is a flashback of sorts – which I found out was really difficult to write in the correct tense. (insanely annoying!) Anyway, I don't want to rewrite it again, so please just enjoy :)**** Andsowego **

"**WWW"**

**Chapter VIII**

**- **_**FLASHBACK**_** – **

It had been a trying shift for Sara; full of too much work and not enough patience. Grissom was on edge, and it was all she could do to not lose it with him. Sara was sure that something was bothering him, but to the untrained eye, he was all business as usual. After having shared substantially more than a cup of coffee with him over the past two years, she knew better than to push the issue, and had hoped that she'd make it through the rest of the shift without too much annoyance.

She had been working on a fairly routine case – a young woman had come home from work, only to find her husband floating face down in the backyard pool. Unfortunately, it had only remained routine until Sara had questioned the neighbour, who recounted several instances of violent domestic disputes over the last few years. Suddenly, the wife had become both a victim of her husband's temper, and a viable suspect in his subsequent murder. It was the kind of case Sara could easily become consumed with, and Grissom knew it. She was pretty sure that it was the only reason he'd pulled her from the case so quickly and reassigned her to the latest miniature fiasco. 'Supervisor Grissom' was keeping her in check, and she wasn't happy about it.

Upon showing up at the miniature's latest crime scene, she'd found Grissom in the bathroom, discussing the victim's time of death with David.

"Miniature killer?" she'd asked casually.

He had launched into some explanation about there actually being no obvious indication of a mini crime scene, and how all he had thus far was a miniature replica of the dead guy. It was pretty clear to Sara that Grissom didn't really need her there, and that he just simply didn't want her to lose herself in the other case. He'd even tried to placate her festering annoyance by gently calling her 'dear'… at the crime scene, right in front of David, no less. It mildly irritated her, but she was a professional, and there was work to do. There would be time later for a discussion with 'boyfriend Grissom.'

After the evidence had been collected, and the scene had been closed for the time being, she had returned to the lab. Grissom was nowhere to be found, which was just as well she'd figured. The annoyance at his fatherly attitude had yet to fully dissipate and she knew that the drive home with the car stereo on full blast would help to clear her head. She imagined climbing into a bubble bath with a beer in one hand, and the dog staring at her from the bathmat. She could deal with Grissom later.

After exiting the building into the car-park, Sara's investigative instincts were on high-alert. She initially paused as she entered the dark garage, taking stock of the varying shapes and shadows created by the corners and bad fluorescent lighting. As she continued forward and approached her car, a young woman suddenly appeared from behind a mini-van. Sara couldn't remember the girl's name, but she did know that she worked for the janitorial service in the lab. Sara had passed her by, sharing a brief nod of acknowledgement and a half-smile, before reaching her own car. As she loaded her kit into the trunk, a sharp voice came from behind her.

"Sara."

"Oh, hi. I'm sorry, I couldn't remember your name" she had said, setting her cell-phone down in the truck and extending her right hand to the girl.

"That doesn't matter. I know yours."

"Clearly."

"Where are you going?"

"Uh, well, shift's done, so I'm heading home. You?"

"My father's place."

The next thing Sara had remembered, was waking up in complete darkness with a pain in her side and a strange dizzy sensation in her head.

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**A/N: Thanks to everyone who left reviews last time. I really appreciate your kind words, and I hope that everyone out there is still enjoying the story. If you haven't done so already, perhaps you could leave a review this time! **

**Stay tuned for the next chapter within 24 hours. –Andsowego**


	9. Chapter IX

**A/N: We're back to the present… sort of. There's a little flashback in the middle of this chapter involving Greg. Much to my dismay, I couldn't write it any other way. Thank-you so much for the nifty reviews. Enjoy! Andsowego**

"**WWW"**

**Chapter IX**

Greg pulled his car into the back lot at the hospital, searching for a parking space. The way he saw it, his duty for the time being had been more than fulfilled. There was no way in hell he was going to remain holed up at the lab at a time like this. As he pulled into an empty slot, his cell phone rang.

"Sanders."

"Greg, it's Brass."

"Where are you?"

"Look to your left buddy."

Greg turned to his left, to find that Brass was in the car next to him, staring at him through the window with a serious look on his face.

"Get over here Sanders."

Greg closed his cell and undid his seatbelt. He wasn't supposed to be at the hospital, but had hoped that he could sneak in unnoticed. No such luck. Judging from the stern look on Brass' face, Greg was sure that Brass was gonna take a piece out of him. As he slowly exited the car, he stood up to find Brass already standing on the pavement directly in front of him. It was what happened next that really shocked Greg.

Brass hugged him.

Not your usual guy hug… you know… the obligatory 'pat-pat' on the shoulder followed by an immediate step away. No, this was definitely not your typical guy hug. This was a full-on, arms all the way around kinda hug, and Brass wasn't letting go. Greg was stunned into an uncomfortable silence. Eventually, the older man pulled away, and Greg noticed what looked suspiciously like tears forming in the man's eyes.

"You found her" stated Brass.

"Well, no… I… not really. I just found the evidence."

"No Greg, you found her. Take credit where credit is due."

"Look, all I did was find some evidence that led us down a different path. I didn't actually locate the car, or Sara, and I never even got to go out to the site. I mean, Grissom was the one who asked me to do a full autopsy on the mini-Sara… I'm sure that if he'd done the inspection himself he would have noticed the same thing" Greg attempted to explain.

"You're probably right Sanders. Grissom would have noticed the same thing, given his relationship with her, but the fact remains that he didn't. _You_ did. And thanks to your objective eye and your, well, rather quirky personality, we not only found her, but found her alive."

Greg lowered his eyes to the ground. He had definitely had a hand in finding her, but really, he was just doing his job.

"How is she Jim?" Greg asked quietly.

"She's good."

_**- FLASHBACK – **_

The miniature CSI vest had been slipped off first without much effort. Then slowly, carefully, every tiny piece of clothing had been peeled back and inspected, layer by layer, until nothing was left but the waxy naked body of the mini-Sara herself. The motor had to be disconnected. She lay still. Greg prayed that this wouldn't be a sign of things to come. He _had_ to disconnect her. He didn't have a choice if he was going to properly perform the mini-autopsy without distraction. There was no way he could concentrate with the little Sara-hand repeatedly beckoning to him from under the lens and the whirring of the motor buzzing from beneath his fingers. Still, he felt guilty, as if he was about to single-handedly erase all hope of finding her alive. It was irrational, he knew, but he just couldn't shake the feeling that by sending her to her mini-doom, he was somehow sending the real Sara to her fate as well.

He could do this. He _had_ to do this. Sara needed him. It was now or never.

Greg gingerly picked up the mini-Sara with the stainless steel tweezers, turning her over and back again, hoping for some small shred of useful evidence to reveal itself. Her hair was just the right shade of brown and her eyes had been dabbed with the perfect shade of matching dye. Her toes were painted pink. Wow. Natalie knew that Sara painted her toes. Creepy, yet somehow expected he surmised. She seemed to know details of Sara and Grissom's relationship that even he had missed, so why wouldn't she be accurate about the toes too? Upon finishing his visual inspection of the mini-Sara, he reluctantly traded the tweezers for a scalpel. Just as he was about to commence dissection, something clicked.

Izzy Delancy.

Izzy Delancy had a tattoo. So did the mini-Izzy.

Sara Sidle.

Sara Sidle had a tattoo. The mini-Sara did not.

Greg smiled.

The scalpel was unceremoniously discarded on the table, and the mini-Sara appropriately left for dead under the microscope. Dissection was no longer necessary, and Greg needed to notify Brass.

It wasn't Sara under the car.

_**- PRESENT – **_

"So, boy-genius, aren't you gonna tell me _exactly_ how you knew it wasn't her out there in the desert?" Brass was only half-joking.

"Listen Jim," Greg quickly changed the subject, "it may not have been Sara out there under the car, but it was someone. Do we know who it was yet? What the heck actually happened?"

"Well, once we knew that it wasn't Sara out there in the wreck, we were able to concentrate our search on local possibilities. I mean, there's no way that Natalie would have had time to abduct Sara, get her out to the desert, put her under a car wreck, get back to the lab, plant the miniature in Gil's office, and then head home. She must have set up the scene a lot earlier, using another victim, and then taken Sara to a separate location as a final step. Natalie didn't want to kill Sara, she just wanted Gil to suffer."

"What if I had been wrong with my conclusion Jim? The woman that was found under the car was in pretty bad shape. Catherine called it in when they finally found her… said that she wasn't expected to live. It could have been Sara…" Greg's voice cracked with the sounding of her name.

"But it wasn't, Greg. When Sofia found Sara locked up at Ernie Dell's old place, she also discovered extensively detailed plans that led us to find the location of the wreck. If we hadn't concentrated our search on local possibilities for Sara's whereabouts, we never would have found the car in time to save the woman. All we know about the victim at this point is that she was a streetwalker from the strip. When it all went down, I sent a couple of officers down to the strip to show her picture around. Turns out the woman had been missing for a few days. Her friend had found her dog running loose, and was afraid to report her missing to the police. You and I both know that prostitutes aren't exactly forthcoming with us cops for a reason Greg. It's in God's hands now if she lives or dies. There's nothing more we can do at this point."

Greg nodded in agreement and started to head for the hospital entrance, only to be stopped by Brass' strong grip on his elbow.

"Where do you think you're going Sanders?"

"Um, well… to see Sara! Where do you think I'm going?" Greg asked anxiously.

"Not a great idea kid. Gil went in there not that long ago, and the last thing he needs right now is an audience. I'm sure those two have some serious talking to do, if you know what I mean."

Sadly, Greg did know. Everybody knew.

"Yeah. I guess you're right. Wanna go get a coffee while we wait?"

"Sounds good Sanders. By the way, how _exactly_ did you know that Sara has a tattoo?"

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**A/N: One final chapter anyone? Leave a review and let me know if you'd like to know how things go with G & S in the hospital... Andsowego :)**


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